Hi all! Sorry for the hiatus. Oh my God, life is just a whirlwind right now.

As always - thank you thank you THANK YOU for everything. Every little bit means so much to me, that you care enough to follow this story and take this journey with me. I'm sure Chekov is very grateful as well. Without you guys there would essentially be no story.

So without further ado, ACT III.

Disclaimer: Hahahahahaha.


{August 2264}

"First year anniversary's coming up."

Cynthia looks up from the book she's reading. "Pavel, darling, I don't think that's quite right. We started in, what, May?"

Chekov laughs a little. "Not you. I mean the Enterprise."

"Oh." Cynthia shuts her book and leans forward in her chair. "Want to talk about it?"

"Well-" Chekov hesitates. "Not really."

Cynthia shrugs. "That's fine."

"But I have to, don't I?" Chekov finishes.

"Not if you don't want to, Pavel. We won't do it if you don't feel comfortable."

"Or if you manipulate me into talking about it," Chekov counters.

"Or that. Don't worry though, I'm good at that. You won't see it coming." Cynthia winks before taking up her book again. Chekov smiles slightly and goes back to drawing in his notepad.

Eventually, he breaks the silence again. "Apartment's a little quieter now that Sulu and Scotty are gone."

"I'd imagine it to be," Cynthia says from behind her book. "You liking it?"

"It feels lonely," Chekov admits. "But not terribly lonely like a year ago. Some days are better than others."

"Well, that's good." Cynthia puts her book down again, thoughtfully rapping her pen against her pursed lips. "How is Sulu doing?"

"I don't know," Chekov says honestly. "The last I heard from him was almost two weeks ago – he was heading off on some diplomatic mission. He's supposed to be back soon."

"He'd be a good diplomat," Cynthia remarks.

"He could be," Chekov agrees, choosing not to mention the times Sulu and Kirk had to be forcibly beamed back to the ship because they'd inevitably broken some social conduct on the planet. Like the time they'd tried to wrestle a giant bear monster on Pandorica, not knowing that it was the natives' sacred bear.

Chekov has to press his fingers against the corners of his mouth to stop them from twitching at the memory. "How's Scotty finding apartment hunting?" he asks to change the subject.

"He's having a rough time of it, as you might expect," Cynthia says. "Poor man can't negotiate to save his life. Though I daresay he's enjoying living with me." Cynthia turns the page. "You guys going to do anything when he gets back?"

"No," Chekov says. "Just-"

His answer is cut short by a pounding on the door. Cynthia leaps up as the locked doorknob begins to jiggle frantically. "Who is it?" she yells as Chekov looks about for something to defend them with.

"For God's sakes, it's me!" Scotty's voice floats through the wooden door. "Open this bloody thing up – there's been a problem-"

Scotty streaks across the room the moment Cynthia opens it, eyes wild and crazed with terror. "Look," he babbles, pointing out the window, "look-"

Chekov follows Scotty's pointing finger to a column of smoke rising in the distance, black and deadly. A cold fear sets in Chekov's spine at the memory of black smoke curling up from Khan's ship almost six years ago, and the consequences it had had for the team. And then his mind flashes back to a year ago, when black smoke had coiled underneath the Enterprise.

"What's happened?" he asks, and is surprised by how calm he sounds.

"I don't know," Scotty says, his breath coming in short gasps. "I just ran here the moment I heard it-"

"We didn't hear anything," Cynthia says.

"Your glass is soundproof, of course you didn't hear a damn thing."

Chekov continues to watch the smoke twist into the air, a deadly reminder of all the times he'd brushed fingers with Death and how someone had always paid the iron price for it. "Is it a Starfleet ship?" he asks.

"That's what the rumours are saying."

"Pavel," Cynthia says, understanding before Chekov even solidifies the idea in his mind, "it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't mean that he's-"

"Call Sulu," Chekov says, his voice still unnaturally composed.

"I've tried, lad, but he's not picking up-"

"Try again-"

Just then, Scotty's communicator begins to vibrate. All three of them stare at it for a moment before Scotty hits the button. "Montgomery Scott," he says with a false sense of calm.

Chekov turns away from him, not wanting to read Scotty's expression and know the worst. Cynthia follows him, watching gingerly as Chekov begins biting a fingernail. She doesn't say anything; for this, Chekov is grateful.

"Duly noted. Thank you, Admiral." Scotty hangs up.

"Well?" Chekov asks.

"They tried reaching you, lad, but you weren't home. Apparently, Sulu said to call you if anything happened to him-"

Chekov lets out a sound that sounds like a choked whine and Cynthia glares at Scotty.

"Nothing's happened to him," Scotty says hastily. "At least, nothing concrete, Pavel, they just haven't found him yet, they're still looking-"

"GET OUT," Cynthia yells at him.

Scotty scuttles from the room without another word.

"Pavel," Cynthia says, taking his wrists in her hands. "Pavel, look at me."

"He's not dead," Chekov says, his voice garbled by the emotions fighting to keep themselves contained.

"He's not. He's not." Cynthia forces him to look her straight in the eyes. "Listen to me. It's going to be okay."

Chekov nods, his eyes stormy with all the memories lashing inside his head. "I'm going to go home," he says, his voice tight.

"I can come with you," Cynthia says, genuinely worried as to whether Chekov is heading for another implosion.

"No – don't." Chekov grabs his jacket and leaves. Just like that. No goodbye, no assurances of his being okay.

Cynthia watches him go, wincing as the door shuts gently by itself. Somehow, it would make her feel better if he had slammed it, some sort of signal that he was frustrated, angry. Even a semblance of emotion would tell her that he was functional.

But she can't tell now if he's shutting her out and withdrawing into himself, or if this is just his natural reaction to things. She can't tell, and that scares her more than if he had lost it completely.


Kudos to those who ventured a guess, whether in the reviews box or in my inbox - you guys were close! I can't promise anything else though.

Much love,
ohlookrandom